


or to try

by mitochondrials



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Gen, Technically Pre-Civil War but Civil War doesn't happen, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitochondrials/pseuds/mitochondrials
Summary: Tony doesn't enjoy the reminder that Steve is perfect in every way. Most of all, he doesn't enjoy the constant, self-induced reminder of how beautiful Steve's wings are. Steve decides to comfort him by revealing just how imperfect Captain America really is.Tony Stark Bingo; Card #3037Square: A4 - Handle With Care
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	or to try

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistrstank (dreamingdarkly)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingdarkly/gifts).



> This is probably the latest someone has ever gifted a birthday fic. I'm talking, like, over a year later late (⊙ヮ⊙).
> 
> _Anyway_ , Happy Birthday Misty! I really hope you enjoy my first attempt at a wingfic just for you!
> 
> Thank You Tisfan for beta'ing.

Tony gaped at the sight before him. 

See, let’s start at the beginning. He always admired Captain America as a child. Even his father couldn’t rid him of it. Most of all, after the accident that left him with this blue, ever present reminder of how close he was dying a selfish man for no regard to anyone else but himself; it took his lush, beautiful wings too. 

It was vain and it was petty. He wasn’t the sole man in the world to be disabled like this. He couldn’t preen himself or display his affections without having to blatantly spell out. When it first happened, his balance was so off he needed a special cane to lean on and correct his position. There was no such thing as wing implants; and trust him he tried making his own monstrous, nightmarish pair that nearly snapped his back into two very bloody pieces.

His solace was his armor. He could still fly. Now he could do better than fly; he could jet across the world in a matter of hours and be home for a midnight snack. 

Tony’s wings were beautiful, and were the only beautiful thing about him. They were large and lush, and he could spread them across the workshop from wall to wall. He was terrible, he’d secretly admit, at flying; but no one really cared when he pulled them close and encased them in the warmth of his feathers. 

Steve Rogers was an asshole, and Tony thought him perfect once. He also had the most elegant pair of deep, navy blue wings Tony ever did gaze upon. Tony’s were almost just as blue. They could have been twins. Tony was bitterly envious, and especially so since Captain Jackass avoided flying at all costs when he was the most stunning man the world over. 

(Ah, Tony refused to admit a large part of him still dreamed of being the Captain’s friend. When Tony was young he imagined being Captain America’s best friend in the whole wide world. Bucky Barnes never crossed his mind much; the irony.)

They had found Bucky, the Winter Soldier, staked out in a run down apartment complex near Bucharest. After the fall of Shield Steve was suddenly so ever present in Tony’s little bubble he was almost terrified Steve either had it out for him or thought he was in league somehow with Hydra. 

Tony didn’t yell at him and Steve somehow didn’t mince his words and make everything so much worse. Instead, he asked Tony for help finding a friend. A friend, Tony might add, Steve mentioned in the vaguest of details and not once specified was a fully geared human tank with black wings tipped with spikes. They were real spikes, too, and sharp enough to leave a scar across Tony’s cheekbone after the Soldier successfully blew off Tony’s helmet mid-fight. Luckily Steve took the brunt of the Soldier’s blows while Tony focused on neutralizing the Soldier before Steve became a concrete sandwich. 

Then, once pinned down, the Soldier seemed to accept his fate. It was fucked up how easily he just went so docile. It was also extremely fucked up that the fight clearly damaged one of his wings, and he automatically unhooked them from his back like someone idly taking out their earrings. He was brutally scarred and so mangled from whatever Hydra did to him in order to properly latch them on Tony nearly vomited. 

Correction: He did vomit once Steve helped Bucky into the tower and he was left alone in the cockpit. He didn’t know how he was gonna face Bucky again having the sight of him seared in his mind. 

So he avoided them. Tony planned on doing such anyway. Getting in-between the too made him feel all sorts of weird and miserable inside. He was also a master of faking being okay. He only failed at it with Rhodey, and Pepper, and Happy, and Bruce. Really, anyone one that pushed hard enough because they decided he was worth loving. 

Avoiding Steve barely lasted a week. Bucky was easier because the poor guy was busy losing his mind in medical, battling whatever Hydra also had done to his mind. His arm was fascinating, and Tony found himself anxious about whether it was causing Bucky undue pain like those prosthetic wings most certainly had. Then he refused to think about it or else be subjected to more nightmares. Meanwhile, Steve hounded him at every given opportunity like some lost Labrador Retriever hoping Tony will finally give in and adopt him. 

“You know I’m not mad at you for being triggered by Bucky’s condition,” Steve had said, cornering Tony against the communal floor’s kitchen table. It was a cheap tactic and Tony was angry at himself for assuming Steve wouldn’t play hard ball when push came to shove. 

“Fabulous. Then you’ll let me chuck this sludge you call coffee and be on my way. Somebody tore his uniform to shreds and like hell am I letting Shield getting their grubby little hands on it before I’m even finished constructing you a better version.” 

“Tony.”

“Rogers.” Tony tried to stay stern. It was pointless when in the face of Steve Rogers’ unadulterated misery. He relented, settling down into the single chair available to him that had been pressing into his leg. 

Now we catch up into the present moment; where unprompted, right there in the kitchen, Steve has unhooked his wings one by one and placed them directly on the table for Tony to inspect. 

“I know it was the serum that caused Bucky to lose his wings.” Steve said. “Because Erskine’s caused me to lose mine. It was an unintentional trade off I suppose. One that certainly Erskine didn’t fully expect. Red Skull wasn’t exactly the best to reference considering how badly he was disfigured. The military decided I should wear prosthetics to keep with morale, and I’ve gotten pretty comfortable lugging them around all these years.”

“What.” Was all Tony could manage. Steve’s perfect, majestic wings, were a lie. They are the same; they were both wingless and … Tony wanted to laugh suddenly. They really were twins, now. 

“I’ve been wanting to tell you. I admire you. You’ve never cared about your wings, and I’ve been here terrified that’s someones going to find out Captain America is a liar.”

Tony snorted. “Make me some better coffee and then maybe I’ll think about holding this against you for the rest of your life as blackmail.” He wouldn’t, but that was besides the point. Snarking was easier than saying thank you. It was just like beginning the mental blueprints for something to ease Bucky’s pain was easier than saying he was grateful Steve might actually see him as a friend. 

Steve did remake him coffee, although whether it was better or not was debatable. Steve reattached his wings and they sat in an agreeable silence for what could have been forever. The initial shock might have gotten stuck on repeat in Tony’s mind for just as long, but it wasn’t so bad. He decided it wasn’t bad at all. 


End file.
